How I’m trying to ‘bind my wandering heart to thee’

I am tired.

My back and neck ache. My soul is weary. My eyes feel droopy.

My mind. Oh, my mind is ready for a break. To not think, just be.

I often times find myself pondering about mortality.

It has always intrigued me that I am living in a sea of weakness. Its waves have not just engulfed me, but have crashed over everyone I have ever and will ever met.

It’s the human experience. The method of our existence.

Yet the journey of mortality is to overcome it.

And step by faltering step, I find my journey to become is more beautiful with the passing days. The seasons of change have touched my life, and with it, my very being.

I am my life.

I am patched, mended and sewn together by sorrow, defeats, failures and heartaches.

And it’s never looked more glorious.

Because what has turned every scraped knee and tear stained face into a magnificent ray of sunlight is very simple.

It’s my Savior.

I’ll be honest. I have felt far from Him lately. My prayers have been shallow, and at times, nonexistent. My scripture study has ebbed and flowed. My faith has faltered. Yet my Guardian remains.

I cannot comprehend the love the Savior has for all of us. I never will.

Yet I am reminded in the most pure ways of his infinite compassion, infinite grace, and infinite mercy.

And it’s astounding to me.

My life has been very finite. People come and go. Jobs start and end.  The winter melts, the leaves change.

I have never known anything to be infinite. Except for love.

I’m learning that in my marriage.

But I learned in first from a carpenter from Galilee.

A humble man who healed the blind to see the first glaring ray, and led the lame to take their first shaky step. The Master who said “Come and see.”

And so I came. And I saw.

I left, and looked away.

I peeked again, and walked back toward the light.

Again, and again and again.

And though I’m in a state of cyclical change, I am learning little by little that our constant friend is always waiting.

It’s time for me to move again. Pick up the jarred fragments of my life, and place them where they have always belonged. At the feet of my Lord, and my God.

To walk step by beautiful step behind my perfect carpenter from Galilee.


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